The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  Rahl blustered a bit in organizing his further response, but Deitir held up a hand to silence him before the two went after each other.

  Vlas continued with his accounting of events. “Regardless of whether or not it was, the cultists had been afflicted by the poison of the Vadryn and attacked us. In the process of defending ourselves from them in their ghoulish state, a ship arrived. A rogue from the main fleet, or member of a supporting fleet, I don’t know. It launched its fire tactics upon us and perhaps now believes us to be crushed and burned amid the debris on the shore of that island. We chose to return rather than to search for further evidence of precisely what might have gone on there.”

  “We appreciate that,” Deitir said, and meant it. Information in the hands of dead people was quite useless. And they needed whatever information they could find, however gruesome or unfortunate. He drew in a breath and let it out evenly, looking down at the map on the table before looking upon the others again. “Well, I think it’s obvious what we’re to do in this battle, and that’s to regard it as a land battle. Withdraw forces from the waterfront and make them come to us. We cannot withstand against their fire tactics.”

  Silence took the room for several moments, but eventually Fersmyn gave a nod, repeating the gesture to Rahl, who immediately set off with his task of informing others.

  “A wise choice,” Vlas said, and Deitir elected to take it as praise, since it was difficult to grasp how to take the mage most often. The young-appearing man in blue, cast his bright eyes in Alledar’s direction suddenly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Alledar?”

  Alledar seemed taken by the direct address. He quickly looked about at everyone, then to Vlas said, “I … well, I suppose it’s as sound a decision as any at this time.”

  “You seem underwhelmed,” Vlas told him, then dismissed the topic altogether by taking steps around the table, toward Cayri.

  “I trust you have a reason for that behavior,” she said to him when he was nearer.

  “None, except that the man has been bothering me form the beginning with his lack of focus and energy.” The blonder of the pair of mages shrugged.

  Cayri merely looked at him for a moment, then said nothing more of the topic.

  In light of the behavior of both mages, Deitir gave his gaze to Alledar, who looked back at him briefly, then proceeded to recollect his dignity after the sudden attack from Mage Vlas. It seemed that nerves were strained all around.

  There was little to do since Vlas’ return, except to wait for Korsten. Cayri had no way of knowing just how long he should be expected to take; Reaching back to a ship that was in motion, and then returning to … well, presumably to wherever she happened to be, since he had not before been in the governor’s manor. She hoped that he had not found it for some reason impossible to designate her as a target for his unusual expression of the spell. She had witnessed the ease with which he performed the task, with targets such as Ashwin, who was his life mentor, and Merran, whom she believed he loved. It seemed clear to her also that Merran reciprocated that affection. Perhaps they were partners in a fuller sense, but not announced as such.

  The subject drifted from her mind while she accompanied Deitir to his father’s room. She had been detecting a certain uneasiness from the young man since her return. She expected to learn that Governor Tahrsel had taken a worse turn in his health. She was not surprised to learn that he had, in fact, passed away in her absence. Hope for his recovery had never left her, but the complicated and peculiar nature of his affliction created room for anything at all to result.

  Standing in the doorway of the room with Deitir, she let him know with a careful taking of his hand that she understood his behavior before and that he should stay strong. And then she slipped away from him and approached the bed, where the Lady Tahrsel sat in mourning. There was little time for it now, but she had every right to take what few moments circumstances allowed her.

  Cayri put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, knowingly. The minor Healing she cast in that moment went unnoticed for what it was by all but herself.

  Ilayna emerged somewhat from her sullenness after its casting, which was the aim of the spell. The woman looked up at Cayri with tears in her aged eyes, and placed her hand over Cayri’s fingers. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Cayri presumed it was for her presence, not the Healing. “I’m sorry he was unable to stay for this battle. His city will honor him when it’s over.”

  Ilayna nodded. “At least, he was somewhat at rest. I thank you for that, Cayri.”

  Cayri could not say how restful his sleep had been after his peculiar state of possession, not by demon, but by the travelling soul of another human. She elected to say nothing. Whether or not Raiss was suffering in those final hours, it was more important that his family was at peace about it now.

  “Who was present?” Cayri asked after a few tactful moments.

  “When he awakened, or when he….”

  “When he awakened,” Cayri specified.

  “I was,” Emalrik offered from the other side of the bed.

  “Did he say anything?” Cayri asked him.

  The man shook his head. “No. He simply sat up … he struggled to somewhat. I had attempted to convince him to lie back, but he forced me aside with surprising strength. He continued to do so while I tried to at least assist him in walking to the office. He spoke his last words there, in the presence of his family.”

  Ilayna let out a few quiet sobs.

  Cayri looked over her shoulder at Deitir, whose dark eyes glistened in the soft light of the bedroom. “What did he say?”

  Deitir raised his gaze slowly from the reposed form of his father, to Cayri. “He told us … that Konlan was dead. And then he said he wasn’t alone.”

  “Betrayer was his last word,” Ilayna added.

  Cayri absorbed the information given, studying the peaceful face of a man who had suffered greatly during his last days. Possession, of any kind, could never be simple or pleasant for the host. She wondered if he’d been a prisoner to his unconsciousness … awake in his mind while his body forced him to stillness. Had he been trying to warn his family since his fall? Perhaps it was his strength of will that finally enabled him to force through his unnatural slumber. It may also have been that his determination saw him to an early end. There was no way to know for certain. It troubled Cayri, regardless.

  She looked across the bed at the physician, whose presence in the room now—beyond preparation of the body for a future burial—must have been for Ilayna’s benefit. “Did anyone else come into the room at any time that you noticed?”

  The man shook his head. “No. Not anyone other than the lady, their son, and you. Fersmyn from time to time. The guards would likely have hedged upon letting anyone else in. Alone, at least.”

  Cayri nodded, accepting that answer. She had more or less come to the same conclusion herself. “Thank you,” she eventually said to the man, for his answer in that moment.

  “We’ll continue on course,” the captain of the Song of the Coast said. If it hadn’t been stated so simply, Korsten might have taken it for some form of defiance.

  “But you’re not equipped for battle,” Korsten reminded the man, who stood behind the chair of his desk, in a room that was rather spacious. Perhaps it was the only room with quite so much area.

  The captain—Delac was his name—remained in a congenial state while he issued another simple reply. “We have our reasons, and our means.”

  Sethaniel let out a breath of citation for stubbornness that he couldn’t reasonably site, considering his own position and attitude on the matter. He said nothing.

  “It’s on your heads, then,” Sharlotte said, in her usual lack of diplomacy. “You were warned.”

  Lerissa stepped in with her typical form for what Sharlotte lacked in these matters. “If you won’t reconsider going to Indhovan, will
you at least take care in your approach? With the most danger being on the water as yet, perhaps you could find a port south of the city itself.”

  “We’ll manage it,” the man said, and he gave Lerissa a wink.

  Korsten stood there nonplussed, he didn’t know whether over the man’s determination and lack of worry, or the gesture he had just made at Lerissa.

  “There isn’t time for extensive debate,” Sharlotte reminded all of them.

  She was right. Korsten let the matter go. As much as he loathed to leave a ship of men to a fool’s course, there was an entire city under siege. “If you insist on proceeding, do so cautiously.”

  With those words, Korsten cleared his mind of the ship and the possibility of an unhappy fate for its crew. He thought of Indhovan instead, and then of Cayri. He thought of what it felt like to return earlier that evening and find that she was safe and unharmed. He thought of how she had witnessed Song, and how she had expunged the demon caught by the talent. A seed of wonder sprouted just then, but he cast no light on it, envisioning Cayri…restructuring the sensation of her presence. Those thoughts were formed and passed in a matter of moments, the time in which it took Korsten to turn from the ship’s captain and take a brief series of steps from the others. His hands worked the spell. The Reach gate came, was guided over the others, and himself…and the captain’s room became a pallid and dismal space in comparison to their new surroundings.

  The walls of the corridor they entered were multiple stories high, topped with a vaulted ceiling. Ornate relief work and filigree ornamented the entirety of the space. In a more open sense, it was reminiscent of the Camirey house in Haddowyn. Once again, the importance of the role of a city governor was signified. The vastness of the Seminary surpassed both manors, but the richness of this manor was singular in its culture. He imagined such grandeur had been fashioned after the Old Capital, and the house of the former king of Edrinor.

  Cayri was stood before a window that virtually served as the wall at the end of the passage, looking out on a city that remained lit, but that held conflict within the folds of its shadow. She turned to face them, and Korsten took that for acknowledgment enough. While she moved to join them, he looked to Sethaniel to see how the elder had managed the Reach.

  Sethaniel’s ancient features mustered a look of dignity. He evidently took note of Korsten’s silent inquiry and said, “I’m fine.”

  Korsten accepted that, but continued to observe him, which earned a more direct look, one that might have come with words, but that they were both distracted by the arrival of a young man, alongside an elder woman. The woman appeared somehow horrified at the notion of her guests…or of one guest in particular.

  Maintaining his dignified expression, Sethaniel said rigidly, “Ilayna.”

  Korsten looked from one to the other, his gaze catching incidentally on the young man as well.

  The gracefully aged woman let out a gasp that may have also held tears. “Sethaniel, why have you come?”

  “Mother?” the youth began.

  In the same moment, Sethaniel had begun to answer the woman, but she would not allow it, saying at once, “Be silent, you old bastard.” After the words escaped, Ilayna regathered herself, held her chin up, and gave her hand to Sethaniel.

  Korsten watched his father take it with some familiarity, though he might not have been expecting the offer.

  “Raiss is dead,” Ilayna said, and then she began to cry.

  Sethaniel’s wizened hand tightened around the slenderer hand of the lady, and then he offered his condolences, by drawing her into an embrace.

  That was all the evidence that Korsten required. He looked at the image of his father, consoling a woman who had once been his lover—a woman whose presence might have consoled him after the loss of Korsten’s mother—and then he looked to the young man. He held a rather cross look on his face…the face created by the elder pair before them. This was their child…and his brother by half.

  Gods, you are anything but merciful.

  “Deitir,” Cayri said to the young man, perhaps if only to pry his focus from their parents. “This is Korsten. It was he and Merran who routed the Vadryn in the caves, and discovered the crone.”

  Deitir pulled his gaze from the pair of elders, looking at Korsten with a face that would have haunted him, had he not reunited with Sethaniel first—he looked strikingly similar to the father they shared, and precisely like a Brierly…a form more suited to what Korsten imagined his father might have looked like younger.

  “Indhovan is grateful to you, Mage Korsten,” Deitir said.

  And it was then that Korsten felt acutely how much they were strangers to one another. He accepted the young governor’s thanks and said in return, “Our work has barely begun.”

  He and Cayri exchanged knowing glances afterward, while Deitir’s attention was recaptured by his mother, who introduced him to Sethaniel. No mention was made of parental connection, though Korsten suspected Deitir might be wise to that detail all the same. He also did not appear particularly pleased by it, but if the man who’d lately died was his adoptive father, that may have been expected.

  A casual exchange ensued between father and son, and it was then that Sethaniel indicated Korsten by placing a hand on his arm. “Ilayna, this is Korsten,” he said, followed by, “You might remember him.”

  He had barely completed the sentence when Ilayna spoke in a tone of surprise which began to override her grief. “Your son,” she said. “My gods, Sethaniel…he’s beautiful.”

  “He inherited a good deal from his mother,” Sethaniel said, either incidentally or intentionally reminding Korsten of their conversation on the ship, regarding his Morennish heritage.

  “Yes, he has,” Ilayna continued. She continued to observe him. “And you believed him lost. We all believed you lost,” she said, finally speaking to Korsten rather than of him. “We met only a few times when you were very young. I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

  That was quite true. He did not recall her at all, by face or by name.

  “It seems that you were rescued by mages,” she said next.

  “You cannot know how true that is, dear Lady,” Korsten replied

  Ilayna smiled very slightly. “You’re very graceful,” she concluded. “Thank you for coming back.” Her attention went next to Sharlotte and Lerissa. “Thank all of you. We’re very grateful.”

  They accompanied Ilayna and her son to the central office of the governor—the battle room, given the circumstances. Korsten saw his father to the table and to a seat with as little awkwardness as he could muster. He was still as wary of Sethaniel’s age as Sethaniel was leery of others regarding it.

  “I’m not at all surprised that you managed to make your way here,” a man said to Sethaniel.

  Korsten regarded the fellow with a glance, capturing the image of a man younger than his father, but no longer young, with dark hair and sharp features. Sethaniel appeared as if he was prepared to bark at the individual for some reason or another, so he withdrew for the moment. He turned to face Vlas, conveniently as it seemed the other mage was on the verge of asking for his presence. Korsten made it easier by walking with him a few steps from the table.

  “Cayri told you of Merran,” Vlas said, seeking confirmation.

  “Yes, she did,” Korsten answered. And then, “I know not to expect him here immediately.” Or at all was silently added, perhaps more by Vlas, who seemed more distressed about the matter than Cayri had been. Korsten reminded himself that Merran was in the presence of Eisleth now. There was no better place for him to be with an injury, no matter how dire it may have been.

  Vlas let the matter lie in favor of another. “What became of Serawe?”

  “She was taken out to sea,” Korsten replied.

  “Out to sea?”

  “Yes, and there she was diminished by the ocean current
.”

  “Thankfully you weren’t taken by it as well,” Vlas concluded without indicating whether or not Korsten’s answers were satisfactory to him. He went directly to the next topic of interest. “I fear that Morenne may have already claimed the Islands. It feels lost to the state Serawe had brought it to, completely.”

  “Do you believe there are more demons present there?” Korsten asked him.

  “Possibly, and a population loyal to demons. Perhaps a population of Morennish soldiers as well. They could well have established a secondary camp on any one of the Islands, and we’d certainly be none the wiser, not with the way communication has been deliberately befuddled between them and this city for years. I’ve advised the governor not to rely on them.”

  Korsten digested Vlas’ assessment. Before he had done so fully, a familiar elder appeared in the open doorway. The look on Constable Rahl’s face was fairly panicked.

  “They’ve come on land,” he announced.

  And there was no more time for talk.

  Sharlotte appeared beside them and practically extracted Korsten physically from Vlas’ side. “You’ve been to the waterfront?” she asked him briskly.

  “Near enough,” Korsten replied, repainting the image in his mind even as she issued the request he already anticipated.

  “Take me there.”

  Korsten wasted no time doing so. Within moments and without time for departing words with anyone, he and Sharlotte travelled by Reach to a street not far from Irslan’s home. He recalled somewhat irrelevantly seeing Master Treir in the governor’s office, and he was grateful to see him unharmed. Those most in danger now were the soldiers in this area, several of which rushed around the mages who had appeared suddenly in their path.

  Sharlotte looked about, quickly assessing placement of her surroundings, living and inanimate. The sound of battle was within hearing range, so they had evidently Reached near enough, perhaps on the edge of too near. The memory of the bolt to the shoulder Lilende had delivered him created a sharp nudge where the wound no longer existed, even as a scar. The only scars he had retained were either emotional, or of a type delivered by demons. Both the seal on his neck and the still tender area where Serawe had clawed him flared somewhat in that instant.